I woke up this morning in a state of quandary. I'd worn the black sweater to church last week. I wore the grey sweater yesterday. It was going to be too cold for a suit jacket, I could tell. In my head I could clearly visualize the last remaining option, as it rested neglectedly folded and stowed in the back corner of my drawer: The light blue sweater. It's a very nice sweater, don't get me wrong. Name brand and made with quality; I'd sold a number of this same sweater the year before to professionally dressed aristocrats while I worked for Macy's. And it certainly wasn't a sale item. Yet my will digressed under the subliminal consternation that the color of this sweater - which is certainly beautiful - could only be described as beautiful: an ominous adjective for a man; and hard as I tried, my rationale could not rid me of the corallary conclusion that this sweater - in essence, not in make - was a women's sweater. So I turned to my wife in search of that absolute and incessant condolence that she provides and confessed to her my consternations. And in her infinite wisdom she gently relieved me of my concerns by reminding me that the black winter hat I wear frequently bears the label of a women's fashion designer and is certainly, as well, a women's hat. So I concluded that I had experience behind me, and put my faith in front of me, and begged Ashley to wear something to support my in my bold step forward, and with fortitude and conviction I wore my blue sweater.
And with my saga behind me and my concerns abased, I sat by the side of my wife, dressed in blue, and wouldn't you know, Lorri said we looked good, like the cover of an LL Bean magazine. This inspired us, and we decided to run our own photoshoot for our own magazine: the LL Bontorno. Mostly we don't sell anything in the pictures: we just look sooo good in Blue.
